


Beads of Lust

by emansil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 45/19 age disparity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emansil/pseuds/emansil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco surprises Albus making a potion he should not be making. The results are stellar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beads of Lust

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated characters and settings remain the intellectual property of JK Rowling and her associates. We are very grateful for permission to play with them. The title and quoted lyrics are taken from the Placebo song of the same name.
> 
> Written for the recent dm_asp_fest of 2013

Beads of Lust, Released into the Air

 

Potion ingredients accepted nothing but the utmost respect. 

Albus Potter had that respect. He knew the leaves of the Flutterby bush should be snipped and not minced to give off the scent that was the most effective, and that the strength of the potion depended upon extracting the juice of the pomegranate seed by rolling and not crushing. He’d also learned that the potency of the main ingredient, Ashwinder eggs, was more durable and long lasting if allowed to thaw for no less than sixty minutes but no more than ninety and then refrozen before used. To the unwise, these corrections may not seem much, but it could mean the difference between success —enough side money to keep him in both shags and booze ---and disaster. Albus wasn’t fond of disasters.

Abraxus Apothecary might be the finest and most expensive apothecary in London, but none of that money came to Albus. As an apprentice he received exactly zilch, nada, zero for his time and effort. However, he’d not been sorted into Slytherin for nothing; Albus was nothing if not resourceful. 

The apothecary was dark and silent. He worked alone in a small room in the back, well hidden from the nosey nellies and their prying eyes. As long as he put in his required eight hours a day as an apprentice, what he did the other hours of the day was of no one else’s concern. 

At nineteen, Albus has needs. Primary among those are getting shagged, at minimum, three times a day on his off days and enough liquid encouragement to persuade the wary they really did want to spread themselves for him. Never forcing anyone to do what they didn’t desire, but were simply unable to admit to. These needs were costly. 

His living needs were provided for with a prepaid flat and the use of Kreacher to make sure he got two square meals a day. As for his spending money, he’d gone through what had been left for him too fast. When it came to extracurricular activities Albus was on his own and he’d found a way. Granted, it was highly illegal; if his mentor ever found out Albus would be out on his arse before Mr. Malfoy finished saying the word. 

Mr Malfoy, Albus hated to think of him as that. Hated it so much—he didn’t—except when he had to, which was pretty much anytime the shop was open or anytime Mr. Malfoy was there. Otherwise, in Albus’s thoughts he was Draco. 

Fuck, but he loved how that sounded in his head, and in his ear when he said it out loud, loved how the Dra was so soft and sexy, like a whisper, a promise of more, and the co at the end with that sometime hitch in the breath as if just breached with a tongue or a finger, or the sharp tug of teeth on his nipple. The release of breath, the sigh, that says, “Yes! Fuck! More!” 

Albus loved to wank to the sound of saying his mentor’s name over and over, whispering it soft and low, “Draco, Draaa, co.” If the men he spread his legs for were plied with enough drink, he’d even use it in their presence, remembering to Obliviate after each one. Never did he bestow the honorary of ‘Draco’ on those he topped. 

***

He had made this particular potion enough times; it could be likened to the levitation of a feather. Still part of the first year curriculum, that task had been the first indication of the rivalry that had marked Albus and his fellow Slytherin and dorm mate, as well as his biggest competitor for top marks in all the classes – especially Potions. 

Scorpius Malfoy was a spoiled irritating obnoxious git who seemed to think the world owed him. He’d stolen more accolades that Albus had wanted, than not. Thank Trelawney the Ministry frowned upon the practice of nepotism. Sure it may mean that his brother James had to practice his Auror skill in Toronto instead of London where he belonged, but it made Albus a shoo-in for the apprentice position at Abraxus Apothecary. He’d earned it fair and square, as well. 

A small ringing of the alarm reminded Albus of the time. He needed to return his concentration to the task at hand. The client would be arriving soon, and the last step was the most important. He took a small, less than half-inch wide razor, and began to shear off the beech shavings need to maintain its subtlety. This was what made this particular brand of potion the most effective of any, as far as he knew. 

Most effective when fresh made, it had the greatest impact if applied locally. The sprig of peppermint was added just as the second alarm sounded, along with the door unlocking and the wards released. The timing was crucial. The client was due to arrive the moment the potion was complete. The potion would then be poured slowly over the hands. He or she’d then rub it into the palm and all the fingers from where the fingers met the palm all the way to the tips. The client would then Apparate to where the subject of their desires waited. The touch of a finger along a cheek, a clasp of a hand along the bicep, even the gentle pressure along the back of the elbow guiding someone would be enough to set off the first stirrings of lust. Its greatest effect only required that it be stroked into the skin of the one desired. 

The potion was quick to take hold, but subtle in the way it behaved. Suspicion that the feeling and yearnings were artificially induced was therefore rare. If the feelings were there initially, the reaction was quicker, and so much the better.

Behind him he heard the clicking of the door opening. Good, just in the nick of time. The potion just needed the final slow turns. He’d learned that for best results the potion was not stirred, but turned, slowly and steadily, not wavering, two full turns in the direction that followed the rising and setting of the moon for that evening. Love and lust, he’d discovered, often followed the behaviour of the moon. 

The door slammed behind him, startling him. 

“Watch it. You almost made me spill. I’d hate for you to have wasted your fifty Galleons for a half-empty vial. You understand, there are no refunds on this,” he said as he carefully lifted the cauldron, prepared to decant. 

“Mr. Potter, may I be so bold as to ask, what it is you think you are doing?” A voice behind him asked. It was Mr Malfoy and it was his Potions Master’s voice. The one used when he was certain Albus had just done something horribly wrong. 

Fuck, Albus jerked. As he did, the cinnamon candy he’d been sucking on dropped into the cauldron, splashing a small amount of the potion onto his hand, immediately he dropped the cauldron the two or three inches back onto the heat source and rubbed at the burn on his arm, as Mr Malfoy intoned “Accio potion,” all at the same time. The result was an event of catastrophic consequences. 

The cauldron exploded. An explosion of tiny droplets that splattered everywhere, not only all over Albus but most likely Mr Malfoy as well. Potion everywhere, small teardrop shaped beads, colourless yet shiny, like drops of frozen rain scattered in the air.

The moment it hit his skin, Albus knew, this was possibly the strongest version of this potion he’d ever made, knew that rubbing that burn had been a mistake. Immediately, he began to feel the want and desire for the touch of another. Not just any other, but the other that was standing behind him. 

Albus could only stare in horror at the devastation. It was everywhere, on the counter, the floor, the four walls, the ceiling, and … Dreading what he knew he was going to see, he turned around. Mr Malfoy, standing behind him, was liberally sprinkled with the potion. It glistened in his hair, on his face, and along his neck. 

Without a word, he waited, most likely for Albus to begin wiping away the dripping mess. Albus knew what the consequences were going to be, no matter what he did. All it took was just the slightest touch for the potion to begin working. Albus wanted Draco to want him, but on his own. Not like this, not due to a potion. 

Not that he needed any assistance in his own lusting after his potions mentor. This was just going to make it a hundred times more powerful. 

Albus reached his hand up to wipe the excess from his own face. As he did he caught Mr Malfoy’s expression. It wore no sign of anger or disappointment; instead it wore the look Albus had been awaiting and craving for the four months and three days since he’d started. But had never thought he’d see. 

But wait. The potion hadn’t been rubbed in yet. Could it have taken effect already? 

Mr Malfoy smiled a small smile, then turned away from Albus and walked toward the front of the shop. With a flick of his wand he began to close the blinds of the large shop window, moving from right to left. Making sure that every slat was perfectly closed and even. Then he repeated the process for the curtains that hung there as well. This time going from left to right. And with the same slow sensuous movement, he swished his wand in the direction of the doors. First the front and main entrance, as well as the back, reserved for ingredient deliveries and the removal of rubbish at the end of each day. Albus was well acquainted with the back entrance. 

Once he appeared satisfied that everything was completely locked and invisible to the view of others, Draco at last turned back around towards Albus. 

Then, and only then did, Draco Malfoy begin to wipe at the droplets of potion that were scattered across his face and head, and clung to his lashes and fringe. He brought his hand to his face and sniffed deeply the aroma, touched the tip of his tongue into the substance that clung to his fingertips and ran his tongue along his lips testing and tasting. Draco frowned in concentration.

But fuck if that didn’t make Albus want to grab him and pull him towards him and taste whatever it was that Mr Malfoy was tasting in the potion, as it was brewed odorless and tasteless. When he stuck the end of his finger into his mouth and sucked, a small moan escaped Albus, before he could stop it. 

“Cinnamon and peppermint, I find that an odd combination. Although, why you’d use cinnamon I can’t imagine, unless it was to make the taste more palatable to the unsuspecting. Then again I wasn’t aware that this particular potion was meant to be enjoyed in that way. ” While speaking, Mr Malfoy was slowly smiling at Albus. In the same way Albus was sure a hungry Kneazle would look at a Pygmy Puff. 

“Mr Malfoy, I am so sorry. I cannot say how sorry I am. I should have been paying more attention. I should ---“

“You should not have been making an illegal potion, but we’ll address that issue later,” Mr Malfoy interrupted him, and then went on to add. “And, I think for this evening it would be more appropriate if you called me Draco. Can you do that? Albus?”

Albus’s head jerked up as did his cock. Mr Malfoy had always been the epitome of proper business etiquette, never referring to Albus as anything but, Mr Potter. 

As Draco,he couldn’t believe he had permission to say it out loud and not just in his wank fantasies was speaking, he was also involved in another activity, one that grabbed and captured Albus’s attention immediately.

One by one, Draco unfastened the buttons of his robe—the old fashioned way—with his hands. Fingers long and slender, nails buffed to high polish, trimmed, short, well-manicured, sorting each button and continuously removing them from the scrap of material that held it closed. With each release, he moved a half step closer to Albus.

“And what, pray tell, am I to receive from this entrepreneurial attempt?” 

Albus remained silent. His needs didn’t really allow for the sharing of the profits.

“So, I see. Do you mean to tell me that you are using my shop, the one with my name on the lease, to manufacture illegal potions? With my being the one that will be charged with full responsibility, if something goes awry.” 

Albus stood as if held captive under an exceptionally well done, “Petrificus Totalus”. 

“And you’re using my ingredients that I paid for out of my own Gringott’s account, used my best negotiation skills to acquire and carry them in my store, due to their potential misuse.” Another step closer. Once all the buttons were freed, Mr Malfoy--Draco--shrugged the robe from his shoulder and then removed first one arm and the other from the confines of the robe. With a flick of his wand it sailed across the room, to land neatly on one of the hooks that lined the back wall, narrowly missing Albus as it did.

“Not to mention, the actual brewing of a highly illegal potion, one that is just a hairsbreadth away from being considered Unforgivable.” 

Albus licked his lips, looking for any moisture he could find, as Draco reached up and slowly loosened his tie from around his neck, stopping half way through to stare at Albus. The hungry Kneazle smile was back. Half predatory, half hunger. Albus now knew how the Pygmy Puff felt. 

“You might find those robes you’re wearing to be somewhat cumbersome in the coming hours. I’d consider removing them if I were you.” Draco’s fingers moved down to remove the silvery looking cuff links that held the sleeves of his shirt closed, and placed them carefully in the pocket of his trousers. The tails of his shirt were pulled out from where they’d been tucked, and Draco took another step. 

Hours? Had he truly just said hours? “Wha? What do you mean?” Albus had to know. For sure. Was what he thought--wanted, please, please please, let it be yes--about to happen, really going to happen?

“Come now, Albus,” he said, his voice a purr of lust that went straight to every erogenous zone Albus had knowledge of and some he’d never even thought of. “You and I both know what’s about to happen. After all, that’s what the potion is intended for, correct? We will talk about the way and what’s wrong in it later. I’ve other things to think on now.” 

One of by one his fingers slid into the openings of the buttons on his shirt and released them. “And I’m to receive no compensation. Not a sickle in the share of the profits. That’s not very fair, now is it?” He said nothing else until he reached the end of the buttons; the shirt hung open revealing a smooth and pale chest below sprinkled with white blond hair across the center of his sternum, barely allowing for a peek of the nipples. Until Mr Malfoy - Draco - shrugged his shoulders to remove it. Before he did, he stopped and grinned at Albus, not a slow seductive, sexy smile, but an all-out, shit eating grin. “I couldn’t be more proud. It does my heart good to know I picked right when I chose you for the apprenticeship. You really are a natural born Slytherin, aren’t you? Your father must be so disappointed.”

“I didn’t think you’d much care what my father thought.” Albus really did not want to think about what Head Auror Harry would have to say; he sure as fuck didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Oh, I don’t. I just hate for you to have to suffer through the wrath and verbal wank of one Harry James Potter, that paragon of all that’s good and righteous in the world.” 

He stood less than three feet away from Albus now; his eyes roved up to Albus’s face, down to his toes and then back up again. Pausing to spend a significant amount of time in the area where Albus’s clothing remained. He moved his hand down his own naked chest catching the back of one of his nails on a nipple. It perked up nicely, as did Albus’s cock.

Albus tore through the buttons of his robe, with absolutely none of the flair of Draco. He just wanted it off as quickly as possible. Until he realized what Draco was doing while he waited. With the thumbs and forefinger of each hand Draco rolled a nipple between the two. A soft smile played across his features and his gaze was slightly unfocused. 

Albus froze and then as if caught by an instant thaw, instantly his robe lay puddled on the floor beneath his feet, where it had dropped, ripped from his arms and shoulders. 

“But sir--”

Draco raised his eyebrows at him. “Didn’t I say to call me Draco?” Soft and breathy just like the moan of want it was. 

“But Draco, the potion hasn’t had time to set properly. It couldn’t be affecting you yet,” Albus said, barely dodging out of the way, as Draco’s belt sailed past him, followed almost immediately by the striped, blue and grey it looked to Albus, shirt. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you under the impression that we were going to be blaming this,” he waved at his state of undress, “on the potion? That just exploded all over my shop and will take days to properly dispose of before I can reopen. Oh no, my dear Albus. This has nothing to do with the potion.”

Albus swallowed so loud he was sure people the next building could have heard it. He knew Draco did from the look of hungry predatory delight that crossed his face. “It, it doesn’t?” he stammered. “I don’t understand.” Albus had toed his trainers off and risking danger to his body had managed to tug his socks off one at a time. His t-shirt with the I work at Area 51 logo kicked to the side where it—sort of–joined his robe.

Draco now stood right in front of him, shirtless, his chest alabaster smooth, few stray hairs scattered across, nipples pale rose and erect. His belt gone, trousers unbuttoned but still zipped, opened at the waist.

“We’ve both known this was going to happen one day. The only question was when. Now I could use the excuse that it was all because of the potion. I could then spend the next few moments cursing and berating you about your errors, and what mistakes you’ve made. But why?” He snaked his hand forward and took Albus’s hand in his. Brought it towards the placket of his trousers, and rubbed Albus’s thumb along the bulge there, before placing Albus’s fingertips at the beginning of the zip, and nodding his head. 

Draco’s own hand returned to Albus’s jeans, unfastening each and every one of the buttons of his button fly jeans, as slowly and methodically as he had the buttons of his own robe. Each brush of his fingers across Albus’s cock was a stab of torturous bliss. “But why would I want to waste time doing that, when we could spend that much more time—actually fucking?”

Albus held the zip between his thumb and forefinger and began to lower it. Draco’s breath hitched in his ear and then he grazed his teeth against Albus’s ear lobe, before twirling his tongue around it. “Don’t stop now. Keep going.”

Once the zip was completely down, the trousers fell open and slid down over Draco’s slender hips. Taking his own hands from Albus’s fly, Draco placed his hands over Albus’s and together they lowered the trousers down his thighs. He held on to Albus for support as he removed his shoes, black leather, Italian? Probably, loafers, and pulled the trousers completely off. They, too, were soon hanging on a hook along with the rest. 

Before Albus got a chance to comment on what he’d just seen, Draco pulled Albus’s head back up and nibbled at his neck. His hand returned to Albus’s fly, where all the buttons had been freed. Albus’s cock strained through the cotton fabric of the y-fronts he wore, the material damp with his arousal. Draco’s hand pressed against his erection. With the base of his hand he rubbed, not lightly, against Albus’s cock, the tip of which was trying to push through the opening of the elastic waist. Draco’s thumb circled the tip, spreading the moisture that gathered there, and then tucked his fingers inside the waist of Albus’s jeans to lower them. And then stopped. 

Draco moved his face to right in front of Albus’s. “Are you sure about this?” he asked just as he bent his lips to Albus.

He couldn’t help it. Albus gave a bit of a shocked snort as the head of his erection had just freed itself from the confines of his pants. “Well, seeing as I’m hard enough to drill through concrete, I’d say that’s a yes. I’m sure about this.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean that. Obviously, you’ve been sure from that particular point of view, since age fifteen."

“Thirteen. I was a child prodigy,” Albus interrupted. 

Draco laughed. “I can imagine. You know, there are times I almost feel sorry for Potter with you as his son. No. I mean this: you and me, master and apprentice, boss and employee.”

“Don’t know that I can really be called an employee, since you don’t pay me anything. But, yes. I’m sure of that as well.”

“You really are a cheeky devil, aren’t you? But what if this is a one-time thing? What if I don’t ever want this to happen again? Would you be okay with that?” 

As he questioned Albus, Draco kissed along the edges of Albus’s jaw, which Albus thought was extremely unfair, first down one side, then moving across his face, stopping at his mouth, to kiss him. Lightly, gingerly, teasing him with his lips and tongue, before he moved to the other side, repeating the pattern up that side. Then repeating the pattern up that side where he rested by taking the lobe of Albus’s ear into his teeth and biting down. Sharp enough to feel but too gentle for pain. 

If he didn’t get this again, if Draco never wanted this again, Albus thought he’d probably just curl up and die. It couldn’t be a one-time thing. Wouldn’t his special way of preparing the ingredients in the potion, keep Draco his? He couldn’t let Draco know any of this. The Slytherin in him moved center stage, again.

“And what about you, ‘old man’?” Oops, may have gone a bit too far on that as Draco’s eyebrows raised and his eyes narrowed. Albus pulled back with an impish grin, “What if I don’t want you anymore. You going to follow me around like some old lecher, always pulling at your cock when you think I’m not looking? Take even more loo breaks that you already take, so you can go in and wank, just thinking of this.” 

He lifted his arms over his head and flexed. At nineteen Albus, having inherited the thin physique of both his parents, still had the body of a fourteen year old boy, but the height of a nineteen year old. He knew he was nothing but skin and bones, barely an ounce of muscle on him. But he had a ready wit and a saucy smile and he could fuck with the best of them. “Just knowing you can’t have this --” He moved his hands down his body, stopping at his waist. 

“Stop,” Draco cried when Albus placed his fingers inside the waist band. ”Let me.” Again he took his hand and moved it to Albus’s erection, lowered the y-fronts and took Albus’s cock in hand. Draco’s hand moved up and down, constantly in motion, pulling him towards climax.

“I think I’ll take my chances over it. I’m willing to risk it. And you?” His lips were less than a breath away from Albus’s. Barely had he finished speaking when his lips covered Albus’s and claimed them. 

Albus allowed--no not allowed--was unable to stop himself--from becoming totally lost in the feeling. The kiss was everything he’d dreamed it would be. But if forced at wand point, he doubted he could have described it. Soft yet firm, persuasive yet ginger, demanding and controlling yet there was a sensuous openness about it. That let him know if so chosen he could take control.

He didn’t want to. What he wanted was to lie down on the hard stone flagged floor and open himself up to Draco. Open his heart and his mind, his arms, as well his thighs. To just let loose and let Mr Malfoy--Draco—Dray…co--take control. But Draco saw it differently.

He pulled back from Albus and rested his lips on Albus’s forehead. Only the fluttering of the pulse in his neck indicated his state of arousal. That, and the hardening of the cock that pressed against Albus’s thigh. “You’re absolutely sure about this?”

Albus fell to his knees and stared in mixed wonder and amusement. Draco wore black silk pants that hugged his arse and upper thighs like they were made for him. Probably were. It was the garters holding up the black socks that caught his amusement. “Do people still wear garters? Didn’t that go out of style about a hundred years ago?” he said with a laugh as he unhooked first one and then the other, running his hand up and down the slender calf.

“I don’t know about ‘people’,” the disdain absolute. “I do. I got tired of always reaching down and having to pull my socks back up. And this works just fine. Now are you going to continue to talk about my unusual dressing habits or are we going to get on with what you’re down there for?” He took hold of Albus’s head and with a tug guided him forward. 

“Ohh.” Draco’s voice was soft. “That’s surprising.” So soft that Albus wasn’t sure it he was meant to hear. 

“What is?” Albus took the chance as he laid his open mouth against the silk and pressed a kiss onto it. Licked upwards. Again, from bottom all the way to the top. Tongue flat and wet and pressing hard against the bulge that was there.

“Fuck!” Draco breathed in and out a few time before he grabbed Albus’s head and tugged it forward. “Your hair. It’s so soft. Like silk threads running across my fingers. Feels like the flow of water as it cascades down a highland burn.” 

Albus leaned back and looked up with a snicker. “Cascades down a highland burn? Who the fuck talks like that?” 

“I do. Now shut up and get back to business.” Draco tugged on his hair.

Albus leaned back in and tucked his thumbs into the waist band of the silk pants and pulled them down, as Draco continued to run his fingers through Albus’s hair. The feel of someone’s fingers playing with his hair was one of the most sensuous things Albus had found. Between that and the feel of Draco’s cock in his mouth, feeling it press against the flat of his tongue, the tip of it as it tickled toward the back of his throat and Draco’s fingers clutching and grasping, caressing and stroking, Albus was lost in sensation.

He barely heard the words, “I’m going to come.” But he did and pulled back, just enough that he could properly swallow. Sucked hard and reached his hand between Draco’s legs to hold and roll his bollocks in his grip. His mouth filled with the slightly salty, slightly astringent flavour of Draco.

Draco bent himself down, like one of the folding measuring sticks Albus had seen his grandfather Arthur use. He reached for Albus and kissed him again. “That was amazing.” 

Neither spoke for a few moments, just rested kneeling the floor. Albus flexed his knees, adjusting the pressure of them on the floor. 

“Isn’t this floor hurting you? My knees feel like they’ve been beaten with a hammer. And I’ve only been here a short time.”

Albus laughed as he’d just been thinking the same thing. “A bit, yeah.”

“May I suggest we take this to a more comfortable place?” Draco said as he stood. Albus heard a few more cracks and pops than usual. “Fuck, I’m getting too old for all this bending and kneeling,” Draco muttered as he twisted and turned, flexing. 

“See, it’s like I said, ‘Old man,’” Albus said with a laugh as Draco tackled him and pulled him towards the side wall. It was the only place where Draco allowed no shelves or counters. He ran his wand across the top then down to the right, and then back up again about 3 feet apart up the left. ”Alohomora,” he whispered. Not only did a door appear, but it opened as well. 

Draco stood back, motioning for Albus to enter. It was a flat. Comfortable looking enough, if a bit too posh for Albus’s style. A grand bed stood to one side, taking up most if the room there. To the other side was a sofa, some chairs and a coffee table, and side bar with bottles of various alcoholic beverages and glasses of various sizes. Straight ahead was the kitchen area, such as it was. A small refrigerator and two top cook top and… “A microwave. You have a microwave? I thought you hated all things Muggle.”

“I do, but it heats things up nicely while I’m dressing, or when I’ve an after-hours customer. What you would have done if I’d been here with my own customer. I do have them, you know. Surely you don’t think I’ve managed to have the finest apothecary in Diagon Alley just selling Ministry condoned potions, do you?”

Unexpectedly, and a bit late, Albus remembered his own late night appointment and wondered what had happened to them. 

As if able to read his mind, Draco said, “Don’t worry about them. I set a ward making them think they’d come the wrong night. They’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes and this time we’ll make sure they’re provided with the best potion.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with my potion. It worked on you, didn’t it?” He was bit confronted by what Draco had just said. 

“Didn’t I tell you before that we would not be blaming this on the potion? It just served as a handy excuse, should either of us have decided we needed one. Besides, with me helping, how could it help from being the best lust potion out there? I’ve even been thinking of names for marketing.” 

Albus reached up and with the tip of his finger removed a bead of the potion that somehow still clung to a strand of Draco’s hair. The bead was still fully formed, clear and colorless yet reflecting the colours in the room; still shaped like a drop of frozen rain. Rubbing it between his fingers and reaching forward, he moved his fingers over Draco’s chest, circling the nipples with the pad of his fingers. “I’ve got the perfect name.” 

Draco gasped and threw his head back. “And what would that be?” he stammered.

“Beads of Lust,” Albus said. 

“Most appropriate.” He walked Albus backward until he hit the bed, pressed him down and leaned in over him. 

***

Ten days later Draco entered into the shop, locked the door immediately behind him and pressed Albus against the wall. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong, but I can’t keep my hands off of you. I fucking want you all the time. It shouldn’t still be this strong. What did you do?”

“I tried to tell you. It’s the Ashwinder eggs. You have to let them thaw and refreeze them before you use them.” Albus canted his hips forward, appreciative of the welcoming hardness he found there.

“Really? But… But that… That goes against all common wisdom. No one’s ever done that.” His hands cupped Albus’s arse, pulling him in even closer.

“And thus, the student becomes the master,” Albus said with a laugh as he pulled Draco’s head down and kissed him long and thoroughly. 

 

End


End file.
